


Spark;

by seafaringheart



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-06 08:34:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5410151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seafaringheart/pseuds/seafaringheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pregnancy was for other girls. Stupid girls -- small town girls with no future who declared love to a man they fucked once in a pickup truck because: ‘a baby can’t grow up without their father’ and, if they had sex once, it surely meant there had to be some kind of love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Three Am;

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, my name is Sea. Watch me throw myself into the PP fandom.

Do you remember the _taste_ of my lips that night?  
I stole a bit of my **MOTHER’S** perfume.  
‘Cause I _remember_ when my [ father ] put his fist   
through the wall that separated the **dining** room.

 

Who knew a little red plus sign could have such an accusatory stare? Chloe didn’t. Not until she was sitting on the toilet, pants around her legs, and pregnancy test in hand.

She came to the conclusion then that was entirely possible for inanimate objects to have emotions. This one was _mocking her._

 It took a few moments for the reality of the situation to set in. Her, Chloe Beale; recently graduated, ex-acapella co-leader to the Barden Bellas and winner of The World’s Acapella Tournament -- pregnant. And it wasn’t as if these things didn’t happen, but _**they didn’t happen to her.**_

 _It only takes one time to make a baby."_ God, she remembered that talk well. She was in tenth grade, watching as her P.E. teacher, a thin woman with spider-like limbs, stalk across the gymnasium like it was a web. As the elongated ruler connected sharply to the blackboard, she threw accusatory stare after accusatory stare at the teenagers in the room; pointedly ignoring the sneers and distant expressions. They, like she once did, held the same view. Why did such a talk even matter? Pregnancy was for other girls. Stupid girls -- small town girls with no future who declared love to a man they fucked once in a pickup truck because:  _‘a baby can’t grow up without their father’_  and, if they had sex once, it surely meant there had to be some kind of love.

"Have sex without a condom, forget to take the pill -- or, even, the protection fails -- and you can have a baby. Sex can be just once, but a child is forever."

Just once. That was the hilarity of the whole thing. All it took was Chloe getting drunk at The World’s after party, hooking up with a random guy and letting him use a condom that was out of date.

How _stupid_ was she? It wasn’t as if Chloe didn’t mess around, ( she and Tom were an off and on thing until he graduated from Barden, after all. Not to mention the men peppered in between then and the moment _ **she was sitting on the toilet.**_ ) and she was the one who openly admitted she wished she had more time to experiment in college. But this was not a kind of experimentation she was looking for.

All she could do was try to suppress the hysterical laughter that threatened to bubble up within her throat. Because it wasn’t unlike Chloe to hide her feelings behind laughter -- but the last thing any of the girls outside needed to hear was her mania at three am in the morning.

Instead, she placed the pregnancy test back into the plastic she had tore it from, and shoved them both into a box with a picture of a ( if you asked her -- _creepy_ ) two-toothed baby. Letting it drop to the floor, the ginger reached up and laced her fingers into her hair; almost ignoring the way her scalp screamed as the hairs were pulled and snapped at the base.

“I’m _**pregnant,”** _ she said to the empty air, her voice cracking on the last word.

These things shouldn't happen to her.

  
& I remember the **FEAR** in your eyes  
the very first time we snuck into the _city pool;_  
late **December** with my _heart in my chest_ and the [ c l o u d s ] of my breath.  
Didn’t know where we were _running_ to, **but don’t look back.**


	2. After party;

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had a trope for that sort of thing -- “The girl who falls in love with her straight best friend.” And, ever since Chloe realised it, it had been a game of suppression. A game of unintentional slip-ups and three am calls to Aubrey because she needed her harsh rationality and advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the delay with this chapter! I had wanted to get it done ages back but, between Christmas and the New Year, that was was not going to happen. However, thank you so much for everyone who had commented/kudos so far! I appreciate every single one of you and your kind gestures. /smooches.

Why can’t you _want me_ like the **other boys** do?  
They **stare** at me while I _stare_ at [ y o u ].  
It’s true, **_I CRAVE YOU._ **

They were drunk off victory.

The Barden Bellas -- three time national acapella champions and now the winners of The World’s Acapella tournament. It was the sucker-punch to all who thought to question their ability; the cherry on top of both Chloe’s college career and position as Barden co-captain.

When Beca walked across that stage to receive their reward, she was sure that she was floating.

Beca Mitchell was the most unlikely face of the Barden Bellas. Chloe remembered ( fondly now ) of how Aubrey looked at her the moment that Beca walked away from their stall -- nose upturned, papers shuffled irritably in her hands as she fumed.

“How dare --” She mumbled under her breath at least seven times. Seven times, until Chloe had casually looped her arm in hers, barely flinching as the blonde’s irritability morphed into cold anger that caused her to snap at the other. “How dare she!”

“I’m sure it’s jitters, Bree,” Chloe replied, two soothing pets delivered to Aubrey’s arm as she felt the other woman seethe. If looks could kill, she was sure Beca’s back would be full of daggers. “She’s probably trying to find a place to fit in and it’s easier to give off the cold and distant.”

Aubrey still glared at the inflection of ‘cold and distant’, though her lips twitched in the corners which let Chloe know she had won. She shoved more papers atop of her clipboard.

“Just hand those out. Please.”

Yet, for an acapella singer, Chloe had trouble finding her voice when it came to Aubrey. Part of it had to do with their performance the year before Beca arrived. How could it not be? The blonde was beside herself, and winning was her only chance at redemption; ‘less her greatest and defining moment of Barden be the day she vomited on the judges and audience at the acapella finals.

She tried to fight against it. In late night texts, in angry calls -- she pushed and pushed for Beca’s talents to be recognised. “Why don’t we try just one song, Aubrey? We could practice at the Senior’s gathering or one Barden’s Open Days. If those people like it, the judges would have too as well.” She knew how good the DJ was and, in her mind, they had nothing to lose trying her songs as they did with their failure of a set the year before.

The remark came at one thirty six -- the glare of Chloe’s clock painting the picture of one of Aubrey’s late night hysterics and her desperate attempts to calm her.

“She’s not that bad, Bree. C’mon --”

“God, Chlo, it like you’re in **_love_ ** with her!”

“I’m not, it’s just --”

“Then **STOP** choosing her over me!”

That was the day that the seed was planted in Chloe’s head. The first night she laid in bed and honestly asked herself why she was putting a girl she had known for not even a year over her best friend. Her best friend who had encouraged her to come to Barden in the first place. Her best friend who had always lived four doors down from Chloe’s house; whose scream she swore she heard both over the phone and through the air the day they were accepted. Aubrey could be controlling and overbearing at times, but she was _Aubrey_. Chloe had never felt at odds with her until the day that Beca Mitchell had sat down in the auditorium and sang for them.

Actually, Chloe hadn’t felt anything like the way she felt for Beca until the day she had sung with her in the shower. It was one of her favourite stories ( mostly for Beca’s “Dude, c’mon!” ) for it marked the start of the new Bellas and her friendship with Beca. After all, “I saw you naked, so --” generally made anything after that look like child’s play. It also meant that their friendship could develop quickly, despite the obvious differences between the two. Beca was jeans and plaid shirts; whereas Chloe was sundresses and knee high stockings. But they connected on a much deeper level -- in late night chats and the hours Chloe would sit by Beca on her computer and watch her mashups.

That in itself was honestly the most boring way thought one person could fall in love with another. Thankfully, however, Chloe was no writer. Not only was tale boring, it was also horridly cliche. They had a trope for that sort of thing -- _“The girl who falls in love with her straight best friend.”_ And, ever since Chloe realised it, it had been a game of suppression. A game of unintentional slip-ups and three am calls to Aubrey because she needed her harsh rationality and advice.

But, if one thought that a Nationals Acapella afterparty was something, The Worlds was another thing altogether. Accents, races and nationalities crescendoed into a melting pot of music and dance; where broken English seemed to be the standard language shared between the populace, and no one really knew what they were drinking other than it had the word _burg_ at the end. All eyes were on the Bellas, and they relished in it.

After all, it was nice seeing DSM on their knees.

Aubrey had long since left Chloe’s side, having been just about as enamoured as she when hearing of Emily’s mother being a legacy. The rest of the Bellas -- both knew and old -- were scattered around the crowds mingling and drinking. Though, despite the surge of people all around the ginger haired woman, it didn’t take her long to spot Beca.

She was the girl who would wear a plaid shirt at her own funeral, and now was no different. The red and black fabric clung to her frame -- her hair still wild from the performance only a few hours ago, and the trophy cup from the worlds still in her hand. As Chloe approached, her own drink in hand, she couldn’t help the laugh that left her lips as she gestured towards it. Despite the fact she had to yell, Flo -- who had been standing at Beca’s side -- helpfully directed her attention.

“The heck have you still got that for?”

“Y’know, I wish I knew,” Beca began, cupping her hand over her mouth so she might be better heard, “Fat Amy wouldn't let me out the door without it. Something about the Australian team wanting us to do shots out of it.”

“... _Oh,”_ came Chloe’s answer, as if that was a perfectly acceptable excuse as to why the Bella leader was carrying a goblet that could hold **_at least_ ** a gallon of liquid. “Have they tried?"

“I have no idea. She said something about a goon sack and a newt --?” 

“Be-caw!” As if though he had emerged from the shadows of the crowd itself, the faux raven wrapped his arm around Beca’s shoulder and drunkenly kissed her cheek -- caring not for the way that Beca protested; if only in jest. Jesse still wore the American flag around his shoulders, though he had long since tied the end around his neck to prevent himself from losing it.

“Now, listen --” Waving cheerfully to Chloe and Flo, an apology evident somewhere within the action, Jesse leaned on his girlfriend and squeezed her shoulders. “I _told_ you that you girls would kick DSM’s butts. Benji wanted to do some kind of tarot card reading, but I told him you _got_ this.”

“Did he now?” Beca asked, a grin slowly overtaking her at Jesse’s stupidity. While she never dealt well with close contact by _anyone,_ ( especially in public ) it seemed her amusement eradicated most of the discomfort within her face.

“Mmm. And, lemme tell you, their faces --” Jesse gestured wildly to his own, “--are worth seeing.”

“I’ve seen them, babe. How much have you had to drink?”

“Shit, uh. Five… six… a lot. But, speaking of a lot, I have done a lot of thinking, Be-caw. _A lot._ Do you know what I’ve been thinking about?”

Beca sucked a short breath of air between her teeth so that it made an audible tsk, “I’m sure I could think of a hundred ideas and I wouldn’t even be close.”

“ _ **I**_ have been thinking a lot about us moving in together once we get home. Have you?”

“Jesus, Jesse.” Shoving him away with the flat of her hand, Beca laughed and held up the trophy. “You have had too much to drink, Captain America. Go annoy someone else and I’ll tell you in the morning.”

But neither of them saw how Chloe’s face suddenly went white.

For Beca wasn't just her straight best friend. She was her **_taken_ ** straight best friend.

Chloe had almost forgotten that part.

She knew the way she was feeling was wrong. Jesse wasn’t a bad guy. He wasn’t someone Chloe would immediately go for, but he was sweet, kind and exceedingly dorky. He wasn’t drug addicted or an alcoholic, and he didn’t abuse Beca in any way. In fact, he was her biggest supporter with the Bellas, and often took Chloe’s side in matters where Beca’s stubbornness would win out over reason. It wasn’t to say that the ginger was any better -- but he was _good._ He was good for Beca and he made her happy. So why shouldn’t she be happy for them? Why did she have to feel so irrationally angry -- irrationally jealous -- whenever he was with Beca?

Why couldn’t she be thrilled for them instead of feeling as if though her insides had been taken too with a knife?

“Are you alright, Chlo?” Then Beca’s eyes were upon her, narrowing in a way that almost looked dismissive unless one knew her better to take it as concern. Nodding frantically, the ginger held out her drink and tried to be heard over the music.

“Yeah. I’m just not -- what is this beer? German?”

“White people,” Flo answered, tactfully leaning in so only they could hear.

“Yeah! Whoo, it’s strong. And it’s really… hot in here. So I’m going to go... outside and get some air, okay? Keep dancing! Don’t worry about me!”

Despite hearing Beca call out her name, Chloe spun and pushed her way into the crowd -- desperate to put people between her and the Bella leader. Some of them tried to stop her for congratulations or a chance to chat, but she feigned sickness in order to peel away quickly until she eventually found a way outside.

She never thought she would be as thankful for the rain as she was then but, bursting out onto the hotel balcony, Chloe was glad it made it vacant. The smell of fish was ever present and filled her nose with it poignant sent, but the churning waters were at least enough to try and calm her own emotions.

In that she could try to throw them in and hope they’d drown.

Rushing towards the railing, Chloe let her fingers crash against the slick bar and grip it tightly; bowing her head as she attempted to calm her rapid breathing. A somewhat rational part of her brain chided her for such stupidity -- why in the world didn’t she think that Beca and Jesse would someday want to take their relationship to the next level? They had just finished graduation, and they had won The Worlds. There was literally no better time for them to move in together than now. Beca had her internship at the studio and she was sure that Jesse was sending off his tapes.

“...Shit!”

Banging her hands against the metal, Chloe threw her head back and used the momentum to propel damp hair over her shoulders and stick against her cocktail dress. Her breathing was sharp; her eyes squeezing together tightly as the realisation dawned upon her.

The World's spelled the end of the Bellas as they were -- seeing as it was time for each of the girls to move on with their lives. They would each go their separate ways with different careers and paths. They would leave. Beca would leave.

And it was one thing for Chloe to say that she planned on pursuing her dream, but it was another thing to gain the courage to do so. They were all sure of themselves, and she --

“Oi, miss! Are you alright?”

Letting out a startled noise, the ginger reached a hand up to clutch her chest as her gaze snapped to the figure at the door. The blue blazer she picked instantly, even if the man’s face she had forgotten.

“Jesus! You -- you’re from the English Acapella team.”

She could have killed herself for such a stupid comment.

“And you’re all wet.” The man answered his accent thick as, he stepped off from the doorway. Without a second thought he peeled off his jacket, wrapping it around Chloe’s shoulders despite her attempts to peel from him.

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s --”

“Really? Most champions generally don’t stand in the cold and rain after they win.”

Chloe’s mouth moved as if though she intended to say something, though she eventually relented and let the man place his jacket around her. She pulled it around her shoulders, barely realising how cold she had become until she felt the heated cotton press to her skin.

“Thank you,” she answered, watching as the man smiled. He wasn’t bad to look at -- a mop of dark hair slicking to pale skin that drew the ginger to the pale hue of blue eyes. She couldn’t help but return the expression; as weak as it may have been.

“My pleasure --?”

“Chloe,” she answered. “My name is Chloe.”

“Chloe. My name is Jacob. Can I get you a drink?”

At first she thought about resisting again. In reality, all she wanted to do was go back to her room, curl up and let the other party without her. It was honestly the most un-Chloe action she could ever undertake But the idea of going back -- to see everyone be happy and know that this night was the start of a new direction -- made her want to vomit all the alcohol she had already consumed.

But, on the other hand, this was their winning night. Aubrey would just about murder her if she didn’t stay, and surely meeting some other acapellas from around the world couldn’t be a bad thing? Even if their first meeting was her in the rain looking little more than a drowned rat. As crazy as she was, she was part of the winning team. That made her desirable. _Wanted._

Reaching a hand up to once more smooth back her wet hair, Chloe allowed her smile to widen.

“Sure. I’d love that.”

And so was the story of how Chloe Beale ended up in the bed of a English acapella champion, his hands on her naked waist whilst she was atop of him, and the lewd noises of sex could faintly be heard from the all-too thin walls of the five star hotel. A few drinks was all it took to weaken Chloe’s resolve, and her anguish was replaced with poor decision making and the momentary affections given by a man she wouldn’t see after that night. Perhaps it was all she needed -- momentary affection. A chance to forget. While Jacob was a far cry from Beca, at least it was her name he spoke in lust and it was her body he craved and touched.

**_Even with the alcohol on his breath, even with the fact he finished far too early, and even with the fact he tipped her off him and fell into a drunken sleep brought on by booze and orgasm._ **

_Wanted_ was a strange term; in that, when Chloe awoke, she realised she didn’t want Jacob at all. She never did. Morning brought clarity and a foul taste in her mouth, and the ginger rose when the streaks of pale light fell over her face and brought on a mighty hangover from the night before. She groaned and placed a hand over her face, ignoring the cool air that hit her naked frame.

It took a moment for her to register the events of the night before -- drunk dancing, grinding, his hand upon her wrist as he lead her to his room. Chloe had laughed and laughed and laughed. Because laughing and looping her arm around him was at least better than facing Beca’s stare, and she could return the thumbs up given by the Bellas as they mingled. _‘Maybe this was the start of her moving on.’_ \-- it was their faux hope.

She could lie and pretend for them, but she couldn’t lie to herself. It was what made her slip from the bed without waking him, collect her things and leave without so much as a hello or a goodbye. All she wanted to do was get her things and go back home -- to try and savour the last few moments that the Bellas would have as a group and the last few moments she would have with Beca before the start of their new lives and directions.

  
I _walked_ into the room **DRIPPING** in gold.  
A wave of heads did [ t u r n ], _or so I was told --_  
& my heart _BROKE_ when I saw you kept your gaze **controlled;**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to follow @seafaringheart on tumblr for semi-regular updates! I also take requests and the like, so the blog should get a little more active as time goes on. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


End file.
